Naive Meets Nightmare
by PetiteRebel
Summary: Elena is having recurring bad dreams that make her question her sanity, but what she discovers will frighten her even more. Expect dark themes that include violence and adult content.
1. Chapter 1

The dreams are suffocating. Every night I wake from a deep slumber dripping with perspiration and gasping for air, having bolted from my comfortable bed. Who could I confess such horrors to? Surely not Jeremy or Aunt Jenna. I can see them laughing and shaking their heads, telling me I watch too many horror movies. This is far from a fictional story flitting across a big screen. It feels so REAL. My heart thuds so hard within my chest I could swear it will explode. Hours pass before I can fall asleep again, but always with the dim lamplight from my bedside table serving as false security. I've tried everything, even not eating after dinner or having caffeine late in the day. Nothing relieves the nightmares or the sickening feeling of dread each night when the red lights on my alarm clock read 11pm, and I know I have to attempt sleep.

Tonight is no different. After slamming my chemistry book shut, I amble towards the bathroom, brushing my teeth and then splashing handfuls of warm water against my cheeks to wash the day's grime away. I slip into my favorite pajamas, a navy blue tank top and matching plaid shorts, the lining of lace at the lower hem caressed between the tips of my lean fingers. My hands pick up my hairbrush, its bristles massaging my scalp until the strands shine. With one final deep breath and trembling limbs, I snake beneath the thick covers, my teddy bear instantly clutched to my chest. Sinking my head into the plush pillow, a hard swallow slides down my throat while I silently pray tonight will pass peacefully, the light from the lamp beaming down to illuminate the room. My eyelids grow heavy, and eventually caution gives way to exhaustion, sleep claiming me.

Then I see it. The black feathers that are so dark that they have a blue sheen, and beady eyes seemingly staring into my soul. The crow caws from its perch upon my open window, the oranges and pinks and purples of sunset its backdrop. Under any other circumstances, it would be a beauty to behold, but this is the signal I fear. My bare feet swing to the shag rug that lays against the floorboards adjacent to my bed, hesitant movements lifting me from my resting place. Maybe, just maybe, if I change the course of events, the outcome changes. I sneak towards the cracked bathroom door as quiet as possible, cringing at the one creaking spot on the floor I just happen to hit. An anxious glance brings some relief. I'm alone, and feeling rather silly as I resume a normal stride, the cool metal of the doorknob meeting my palm to open the barrier. Good. Jeremy's door is closed. I flick on the switch, nerves causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end, but there's nothing. I finally reach the faucet, the stream of cool water tested with wiggling fingers, prior to collecting a pool within both hands. Parting eager lips, I bend at the waist to meet elevating hands and drink heartily. One glance in the mirror after relinquishing the used cotton towel to the counter registers a fresh appearance, albeit a little hazy from sleep, but a rosy hue is dotted along my cheekbones nonetheless. The next second, however, the monster appears in the mirror, and I freeze. Glistening fangs beneath curled back lips greet my eyes, his raven strands of hair falling against his forehead in disarray while his sinister glare from darkened eyes promise malicious intent.

"No, please. I'm begging you."

My lip trembles, but he answers with a brutal tug of my brushed locks, exposing my throat, before his sharp teeth rip into the supple flesh. Whimpering in pain, my face contorts, but the beast laughs against my skin as blood seeps from his inflicted wound, soaking my shirt. Soon I become weak from his repeated bites, the excruciating pain changing to a dulled numbness as I lean back into his muscular chest for support. He wraps an arm around my petite waste to hold me steady, but the room grows grey until it fades to black, my knees giving way to slump my body to the floor. I welcome death with open arms, because I know it's my only salvation. I'll wake up, scared as hell, but alive, so I pray for darkness to take me now. And it listens, as the last puff of breath leaves my lungs and my heart thumps its last erratic song.


	2. Chapter 2

My eyelids flutter open as the first rays of sunlight sneak from behind my thick curtains and stream across my hardwood floor in stripes of alternating light and dark. A hand instinctively jerks toward the sight where sharp teeth ripped my flesh what seems like moments ago, my upper body hurling from beneath the covers draped around me to a quick upright position, and an audible gasp separating my lips. My heart beats wildly within my chest, but with each deeper breath, the pace slows. I'm okay. The psyche takes a few minutes to register this fact, the mantra repeated internally until it's accepted. Swinging my legs out from my blankets and over the edge of the bed, I seek the refuge of a steamy shower to cleanse my body and soul, along with the aches that have me feeling as if I have just run my first marathon. My eyes quickly flit to the smudge of red streaked on the pristine counter, and I sneak to it as if it's a wild animal that will viciously attack if I get too close. Swallowing hard, I realize that it's a perfect representation of four of my fingers, and they must have been stained while I dragged them off the edge. My eyes are as big as saucers as the implications scream at me, and I shake my head in adamant denial. There's no way. Maybe they're Jeremy's from his normal dirty appearance after a visit to his beloved woods. I grab a washcloth, furiously scrubbing away the dried mess until the surface gleams from the bright overhead light. There. All better. The shower is my next stop, the numbing deluge like an unpatented medicine, and even though I have skipped my morning jog, there's a welcome happiness that allows a broad smile to plaster onto my face while I join Jeremy for a bowl of cereal downstairs. "I was thinking since it's Sunday, we could do a family thing tonight for dinner. Maybe food and then a movie, or even a game."

Jeremy tugs his one remaining ear bud, and it falls to his lap during a glance that tells me I clearly need a padded room. "Are you kidding me right now? Aren't we too old for family night? That lost it's fun when I was ten. We barely have family to attend anyway, not to mention Jenna has some paper I heard her say she needs to write."

Pursed lips and a reluctant nod answer my younger brother, but I have a feeling he just needs another excuse to get high with his friends to rid the Monday blues before they begin. "Fine. You have a point. I just think we need to do something with the members of this family that do still exist." The part where I need the comforting support of family after my rough night goes unsaid, and I prepare myself for an uneventful night. There's always a chance Bonnie or Caroline need a study buddy for that algebra quiz.

The scrape of chair legs against the tile on the floor brings me back from my thoughts, followed by Jeremy's silverware clanking against the side of his ceramic bowl as he roughly discards it into the sink. He shuffles past, wearing all black again, and my head follows his pursuit to the front door. He pauses with the door wide open, tossing me a pitying grin. "You know that whole spacey thing you do is starting to get weird."

I open my mouth to respond, a fidget having damp locks shoved behind my ear, but the click of the door in its jamb cuts off any retort I could've stuttered out. My stare at the door lasts a minute before I decide my brother sees through the shaky facade of normal I've been practicing for weeks. Ever since the nightmares started, in fact. The now eerie quiet has anxiety creeping in. This is the time I hate most, when I'm alone in this huge house. I saunter back upstairs to my room, going through the motions of making my bed and collecting dirty laundry, when there's a faint voice that echoes in the four walls.

"You're right to be afraid."

I swivel in all directions, my hand grabbing up the letter opener I'd snagged from Jenna's room two days ago and placed on my nightstand, but nothing meets my eyes. "Who's there? Show yourself, you coward!" The silence drags on, and I start to question if the voice was real. Is this all in my head? Am I making this up? Why would I do that? Scaring myself is nothing but stupid. Weary, my fingers lose their grip on my little weapon, and it clatters to the floor. I look up just as I hear the flapping wings of a bird, along with its cry and the bristling of leaves as it vacates its perch on a tree outside my window. An open window. My head jerks in surprise. Did I leave that open?


End file.
